All This Time
by oppugno-ronald-weasley
Summary: When the task of killing one of the most powerful wizards of all time is dropped in Draco Malfoy's lap, he has nobody to turn to. After one unlikely encounter in the fifth floor Prefect's bathroom with Hermione Granger, things unfold, feelings uncover.
1. The Prefect's Bathroom

Hermione was huddled in her usual compartment of the Prefect's bathroom, her claimed space since first year. She went in there to think, to read and to practice spells amongst nobody but occasionally Moaning Myrtle. Except for today, that is. Nose buried in a book that probably weighed more than she did, the door to the bathroom was thrown open noisily, disturbing her. She placed the book silently on the ground and grabbed her wand from her pocket. She stood up slowly, pressing her face against the wooden door of the stall. The water from one of the ancient sinks was running at full blast and someone was breathing heavily, making a show of splashing water everywhere. Partially because she felt bold today, and partially because she slipped on a piece of toilet paper, she stumbled out of her stall. Immediately, she froze. The intruder whirled on her. Instinctively, Hermione drew her wand.

"Malfoy?" she lowered her wand slightly. The face she came to recognize, one that was pinched with an arrogant smirk, was soft and scared. She swallowed hard and advanced toward him.

"Are you—are you alright?"

"Filthy mudblood, leave me alone!" Draco was screaming at her now. She held her ground, staring at him. He gave up and left her to stand there. He dropped his head to his arms and fell to his knees.

"Is—is everything okay…?" she started toward him again, still clutching her wand. Apprehensively, she knelt beside him. He moved his eyes to look at her.

"Go back to your Weasel boyfriend." He spat at her, voice shaking. What kind of day was it when Malfoy couldn't even manage an insult?

"He's not my boyfriend," she snapped, the blood rushing to her face and turning it red, "and, I'll stay here until I'm sure you're alright."

"I'm not going to be alright, Granger! Do you know what it's like to constantly have You-Know-Who and his-his _followers_ watching you, counting on you to do something you don't think you're capable of? Please just go away." He was sobbing greatly now, gasping for air. She fixed herself next him and touched his arm.

"Draco, look at me," _did she feel bad for the boy she'd hated for six years?_ His face remained hidden. Becoming frustrated, she pulled his arm away from his face.

"_Draco."_ He clenched his teeth and jerked his arm away from her. She grabbed his hand. He tensed.

"Let—Let go of me, Granger," he stuttered, but didn't struggle out of her grasp. Hermione's eyes were soft, staring into his. Draco swallowed his pride and moved next to her. She moved closer to him, still cradling his hand in hers. He rested his head on hers, jittering like the ferret he was. Hermione pulled an arm around his shoulders. The door flung open again, and Harry stood before them. Malfoy skittered away to grab his wand and scrambled to his feet.

"_Hermione?"_

"Ha-Harry I can explain," she sputtered, rushing to his side.

"Later," Harry hissed angrily, pushing Hermione behind him. The door swung open again, and Ron joined Harry at his side, wands raised. Hermione stood behind them helplessly trying to make apologetic eye contact with Draco.

"'Mione, where's your wand?" Ron looked curiously at her, signaling for her to join them.

"Ron, leave her," Harry ordered, pointing his wand more firmly at Draco. Ron turned around slowly, studying Hermione's terrified expression. His face turned bitter and he whirled on Malfoy.

"What did you do to her?" Ron demanded, covering the distance between them in two strides. Hermione's breath quickened.

"What? To your precious mudblood girlfriend? Nothing." Draco sneered as his eyes met Hermione's. They softened for a moment, then returned to their usual cold, hardness that was familiar to them.

"I'm not messing, Malfoy, _what did you do to her?"_ Ron was pressing him up against the wall in rage. Draco attempted to keep his bad-boy attitude about him as he croaked,

"Oh, please, Weasley, what do you think I'm going to do to your pathetic little girlfriend?" Ron swallowed and jammed the tip of his wand into Malfoy's neck. Draco whimpered and his face faltered.

"Ron! No!" Hermione screamed, tears threatening. She regretted her words immediately. Ron spun on her, letting Malfoy fold into the ground.

"What?" Ron's face was calm again except for his eyes. He approached her swiftly. Ron was so close to her she could breathe in his familiar scent. Her lips wobbled, and she hugged Ron tightly.

"He's not worth it," she whispered. He pulled away and smiled.

"That's usually your cue to go punch him," he nudged her with his elbow.

"I—I won't. He's—not. He's not worth my violence," she fled from the room quickly, pushing past Ron and Harry. She found herself alone in the corridor, having no idea of the time, whether they were past curfew, or what just happened. She replayed the evening's events in her head. She was hugging Draco Malfoy. _She was sitting on the floor of the Prefect's bathroom holding Draco Malfoy, Voldemort's newest Death Eater, in her arms. She was even holding his hand. _She balanced her head on her knees and wrung her hands.

"Hermione?" Ron's voice broke her train of thought. He slid down the wall next to her, "is everything alright? You seem awfully jumpy today."

"Yes, Ronald, I'm fine, thank you. Why wouldn't I be?" her teeth were clenched tightly. _This is the boy you love, Hermione, remember?_

"You're not acting yourself. You're sure you're alright?" Ron moved closer to her and slipped his muscular arm around her shoulders. He nuzzled her hair with his nose. She stifled a cry, but the tears came anyway. She laid her head on Ron's shoulder, and pulled an arm around his neck. Dumbfounded, Ron cradled her gently in his arms.

"Well, this is a change," Harry spat when he exited the bathroom and noticed his two best friends. Ron's face was smug and proud, as if he'd finally won award he'd been going after for six years. Harry nodded approvingly and fell next to them. Hermione looked at him. He face was twisted with fear. After all, Harry caught her holding Draco Malfoy's head in her hands whispering to him. He nodded at her. Relieved, she leaned back into Ron's chest.

"So, Harry, what'd you do to the git?"

"I tortured him until he admitted he was working for Voldemort and then stupefied him. He won't be awake for a while," Harry assured them.

"Ha! You were right, mate, that greasy little git is working for The Dark Lord. Probably confessed his feelings for Goyle, too." Ron chuckled at the thought and played with Hermione's hair.

By the time the Trio returned to the Common Room, it was well into the middle of the night. How they weren't caught by a professor confused Hermione, they patrolled the halls now, just looking for students out of bed. Hermione tried to sleep. The next morning, just before sunrise, Harry called her out of bed.

"Hermione!" a voice hissed her name from behind her bed curtains. She tensed.

"Yes?" she stuttered a bit. _How would have Draco gotten in anyway? He doesn't know the Gryffindor password._

"Come here!"

"Harry?"

"Yes?"

She threw herself from the bed and flung her arms gratefully around his neck.

"Blimey, Hermione, shut up! I'm not even supposed to be in here," He wrapped an arm around her back and set her gently back on the floor.

"I'm sorry, I thought you were Draco…" she admitted. He raised his eyebrows at her.

"That's actually exactly who I came here to talk to you about," Hermione froze again.

"I can explain, Harry, really," Hermione stopped in the middle of the corridor.

"Please, do begin, I'm really interested to hear all about this," Harry's tone was teasing. Hermione glared at him.

"I was reading. In-in the Prefect's bathroom, and Draco came in and he was upset, and he's really scared the You-Know-Who is going to kill him, and I sort of got caught up in the moment and—oh, I don't know, Harry. It just sort of happened. Please don't tell Ron." Her eyes threatened to cry again. Harry stared at her for a long moment. Then, his face broke and he began to laugh. She swatted him with her free hand.

"Promise me you won't tell Ron!" she shrieked.

"Tell me what?" a new voice silenced Harry's laughter. Hermione lowered her hand slowly and turned around to face Ron.

"Ron, I—'' Hermione started.

"Now, if we told you, it wouldn't be a surprise, now would it?" Harry saved her from the potentially awkward exchange.

"What are you talking about, mate?" Ron's eyebrows furrowed.

"Oh, fine. We were going to have surprise birthday party for you, but I suppose not anymore." Ron looked unconvinced as he crossed the corridor to Hermione and took her hand. She reluctantly placed her hand in his and they walked to the Great Hall together, a great secret just starting to bury itself beneath her bushy hair and perfect smile.


	2. Misunderstood

5th hour, Ancient Runes and Hermione could still not get her encounter with Draco out of her head. That is, until Ron slid not-so-smoothly onto her desk.

"Hi," he cracked the half smile Hermione fell in love with in the first place, and she melted.

"Hello, Ronald," she blushed fiercely, standing up next to him. Hermione was a bit shorter than Ron was, just about an inch or two. Enough that when she stretched out her neck, she could place her lips on his. Not that she'd ever tried it, or calculated it, or drawn it in her free time. Ron put his arm around Hermione's waist, claiming her as his own. He leaned his head slightly, resting his chin on her hair. She loved the warm feeling of him on her head. She blushed again. She smiled widely and closed her eyes. Hermione decided then that she could spend her life in Ron Weasley's arms and not give a care to anything else. Well, except for the rapidly approaching Draco Malfoy who ruined her happiness. Her heart sped up and she pulled away from Ron, who at the same time, pulled her protectively closer. Suddenly, she felt uncomfortable in his grasp. Draco stopped and smirked his arrogant smirk she was used to. His eyes, however, were still sad and scared like she'd seen them the previous evening.

"Don't strangle her, Weasley," he cackled as did his cronies and they hurried away. Ron muttered foul words under his breath about Malfoy, yet eased his grip a bit. Though his comment was snide, Hermione could tell there was a double-meaning. _Did Malfoy actually mean that? _

"I.. wasn't hurting you, was I, 'Mione?" he looked nervous. She laughed.

"No, Ron, you were just fine. Just ignore Malfoy, okay?" she stopped in front of him. He bumped into her a bit, and gasped.

"It's fine, don't worry," she whispered, before taking his hand in hers again, and stomping off down the hall.

Ron was completely taken aback by her gesture. So was a certain ferret watching from down the corridor. She saw Draco's jaw clench and unclench. Shaking, she pulled from Ron and walked quickly down the hallway.

"Hermione! Wait!" Ron called after her, but she wasn't listening. She hurried to the fifth floor, to _her_ bathroom. The Prefect's bathroom. She bustled through the door and slid down against it to the floor. She rested her head on her knees and attempted to catch her breath. _Poor Ron. She'd left him in the middle of the corridor. But Draco was watching. Why did it bother her that Draco had seen? _ One of the stall doors moved and Hermione drew her wand, she wasn't alone.

"Who's there?" her voice faltered, and the stall door opened again. Draco stood before her, looking slightly less composed than in the hallway. His sweater-vest had been removed, tie untied, and hair a bit ruffled.

"I'm not going to be able to do it, Granger, I can't. _I'm not a murderer._" He stood rigid, just looking at her, his eyes almost begging.

"I know." Her statement was simple and concise. She didn't even know what she'd meant by it. For the past six years, she'd thought of Draco Malfoy as an ignorant, foul, cruel, loathsome pureblood boy with greasy hair. Seeing him unravel before her was something she couldn't have ever imagined on her own. Draco still stood firm, unmoving, staring at her. With every blink of his eyes, she became more anxious. The boy before her was a Death Eater. He could kill her here and now. Except, Draco Malfoy, _wasn't_ a Death Eater. Draco Malfoy was a boy who was always at the wrong place at the wrong time, who was scared of what his father might think of him, had he not accepted Voldemort's request. _Draco Malfoy was just a boy. _

"Why do you come up here anyhow?" Draco stalled, avoiding her eyes.

"It's relaxing. It's an escape of sorts for me. I can read without being pestered by anyone. Well, usually." She made a small glance to him, she hoped without his realization. He scoffed and smiled slightly, half of his mouth upturned.

"Brightest Witch of Our Age and she reads books in an old bathroom." Draco teased. Hermione was uncomfortable, sitting in the "old bathroom" making jokes with Draco Malfoy. His eyes were less sad now, they were far-off somewhere, imagining. His smile, however, was completely gone. In its placed was a half-frown that looked as if it could break any second.

"You didn't want to do it, did you?" she inquired, staring curiously at him. He snapped his head toward her, breaking from his trance. The sadness haunted his dark eyes again.

"No, but what choice did I have?" He made his way to sitting on the ground again, in the middle of the room, fixing his eyes on the far wall. "Either do You-Know-Who's bidding, or get killed." his voice broke on the last word. She moved quicker than she should have next to him.

"You're really misunderstood, Draco," she observed aloud, admiring his profile. Hermione never noticed how good-looking Draco was before. She studied his face, his eyes, and his hair. He didn't answer her. Still gazing into nothingness, he stood. He crammed his hands into his pockets.

"What do you mean?" his eyes were slightly cold again, boring into hers. Hermione wished she could draw her words back into her mouth, but, unfortunately there was no magic to fix being an idiot.

"I- I just meant people think you're so _bad_, but really, they've never taken the time to get to know you, I suppose." He was silent, letting what she said sink in.

"You think you _have_ gotten to know me, then?" Draco's voice was hinted with anger.

"No. No, I was just simply stating that…" she trailed off.

"Stating what?" Anger was now boiling in Draco's voice.

"Someone must've…" said Hermione innocently.

"No! No, they haven't. I made it so. Nobody actually knows me. Nobody understands." He was stuttering over his words, and fighting tears.

"Well, that's really terrible, Draco." She moved to touch his face.

"I know." Though quiet, his words meant something to her. She removed her hand from his face and started to leave.

"Hermione." She froze. In her 7 years at Hogwarts, Draco Malfoy hadn't called her by her first name once. She'd never pictured him saying it. Hermione turned to face him.

"It's Granger, remember?" said Hermione, a little bit of a laugh tagging onto the end of her words. A sad smile folded into Draco's face as she opened the door and left.

"No, _Granger_, wait." Draco said, grabbing her arm and spinning her to face him. Dazed, she looked into his face again.

"Thank you."

She smiled and squeezed his arm, nodding and closing the door.


	3. Cocoa & Explanations

The next morning, she woke with a start. Dawn's early light barely peaked in through the ruffled curtain of the Gryffindor Girls' dormitories. She crept into the Common Room, hoping for some undisturbed reading. Much to her surprise, one of the oversized, leather chairs was already occupied. Ginny Weasley was cradling a warm mug of cocoa to her chest and staring, entranced by the flicker of the omnipresent fire. At the sound of Hermione's footsteps, Ginny turned.

"Oh. It's just you." She murmured, duplicating her mug and handing the other to Hermione.

"Thank you," Hermione took it, graciously swallowing a sipful. Though it was still very hot, it felt calm and sweet on her tongue.

"You're up early." Ginny observed aloud.

"Yes. I was planning to read alone until Harry or your brother came down."

"They were out late again. Spying on Malfoy again, most likely." Ginny scoffed and took a swig of her cocoa. Hermione nearly choked.

"They were doing what?" she spluttered, hand flying to her mouth.

"Oh, just creeping around, following Draco Malfoy. Trying to figure out what he's up to, I suppose." Ginny shrugged, summoning a textbook from across the room. _Hogwarts: A History_, Hermione could tell by the thick, tattered binding.

"What do you suppose he's up to?" Hermione's voice was shrill with guilt and fear.

"Dunno. Harry think he's doing You-Know-who's bidding. I think he's too much of a coward." Ginny laughed at her remark, and went back to reading. Hermione sat frozen. _She had to tell Harry, Ron, someone._

"I know what he's up to!" Hermione half-screamed. Ginny looked up slowly, seemingly unfazed by her outburst.

"Sorry?"

"I- I know what Draco's doing. He… told me." Hermione shook with her confession. Ginny placed the book on the chair and moved beside Hermione.

"What do you mean?" Ginny laid a comforting hand on Hermione's back.

"Oh, I don't- I didn't want it to happen! It just. It just did!" tears were streaming down her face now.

"What? What happened?" Ginny took her hand, an attempt to soothe her.

"The Prefect's bathroom! We've been meeting there, Draco and I. Both times, it was... it was unintentional! I feel so guilty because I can't get these thoughts out of my head."

"Hermione, slow down. _What thoughts?_" Ginny's caring eyes were wide, trying to find some hidden clue on Hermione's face.

"He's—I don't know, Ginny! I just… I was sitting with him the other night, and he was crying, and I was— _sitting_ with him. _Holding_ him, rather. I was admiring his looks or something. But it was just a thought! And he saw Ron and I in the hallway earlier today. And—HE'S NOT A MURDERER, GINNY!" she wailed the last part so loudly she feared Draco would hear her from the dungeons.

"I-I never said he was…" Ginny furrowed her eyebrows, trying to take in what Hermione screamed at her.

"Oh." Hermione sighed deeply, and fell into Ginny's arms.

"It's- it's alright. Shh." Ginny rubbed Hermione's shoulder. The clatter of feet on the stone stairs of the Boys' Dormitories and hushed talking filled the room over Hermione's sniffling.

"_You can't even be sure it was her, Ron."_

"_I know her voice when I hear it, mate, it_ was_ her." _An agitated sigh followed Ron's words. Both Harry and Ron clambered into the Common Room in their pajamas.

"Ginny." Harry glanced down at what he was wearing and blushed a deep shade of scarlet.

"Hush, you. Not like you've never seen me in my nightclothes." Harry remembered when the Weasley's had rescued him in his second year and Ginny had come downstairs in her pale pink robe. He shook himself from the thought, smiling slightly.

"Hermione." Ron rushed to his sister's side, sitting beside Hermione, who was sitting upright now. She did her best to look composed.

"What's your matter?" Ron reached for her face. She avoided his eyes. He brushed at her lip with his finger, coming away with foam from her cocoa. Her eyes swelled with hot tears again. This time because it all felt so wrong. Hermione never deserved Ron. Not once. Draco didn't deserve her, no, certainly not. She had completely confused poor Ginny, who had always been a wonderful friend to her.

"It's nothing, Ron," Ginny was behind him, tugging at his arm and signaling Harry, "go back to bed. The both of you. We're sorry for waking you." Ron exchanged glance between Harry and Hermione. Harry's eyes met Ginny's for a second, then trailed to scan Hermione's face. Silently, she mouthed "go". Harry nodded.

"Come on, Ron. It was nothing."

"But..." Ron protested, head flicking back and forth between Harry, Hermione and Ginny.

"Come on, Ron." Harry's tone escalated a bit and Ron hesitantly followed him up the stairs. Just before he disappeared from view, Ron glanced at Hermione just one more time, checking to make sure she hadn't fallen apart again when he wasn't there to pick up the pieces.


	4. Quidditch and Kisses

Ginny turned back to face Hermione.

"Explain this to me again?" Ginny raised one slim eyebrow. Hermione sighed deeply, falling back into the caring arms of the sofa and starting from the beginning. She told her everything, from the first evening up to the almost romantic encounter last night, praying the boys had obeyed and gone to bed. When she finished, Ginny looked puzzled. Hermione sighed again, polishing of the last of her cocoa. It was nearly time for breakfast now, and Harry and Ron would surely be coming back down soon.

"I'm sorry, I had no idea." Ginny stood, taking Hermione's mug and stacking it inside hers. Though Hermione was very used to magic, the two cups molding to one at Ginny's touch still awed her.

"Breakfast?" Ginny smiled. Just as Hermione stood, the boys came clattering down the stairs.

"Morning, boys," Ginny chirped, slinging her arms around their necks. Harry grinned sheepishly. Dean appeared from the dormitories and Ginny ran to him, kissing him lightly on the mouth. Harry felt slightly jealous, but he figured it was because she was like a sister. Ron snorted, quickening his pace. Harry chuckled lightly and hurried to catch up to him.

The Great Hall was already crowded, buzzing with the eager chatter of students. Harry, Ron and Hermione assumed their usual positions at the Gryffindor table. Plates were already set, and piles of food were being replenished no sooner than they were finished. Ron shoveled eggs and potatoes, buttered toast and waffles onto his plate. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"What?" Ron asked through a mouthful of food. Hermione shook her head, denying him. Harry tried to make small talk. It wasn't much, but it was a straw to grasp at. Hermione mostly nibbled at her food and stole terrified glances at Ginny. When Harry was finished, he suggested that he and Ron go to the Quidditch pitch for their free period. Ron agreed and they returned to their dormitories to change. A piece of parchment slid in front of Hermione. Her heartbeat quickened. Before opening, she knew who it was from. There were two words. One small message, in slanted scrawl:

Go read.

He's planning meetings now? What did this mean? She excused herself from the Great Hall and hurried to her bathroom. She shut the door silently. He was leaning against the far wall, staring at something that wasn't there. His eyes wandered to look Hermione over. She could nearly feel his sad eyes tracing their way from feet to face, and back down again. She shivered and wrapped her arms tighter across her midsection. Draco furrowed his eyebrows, crossing his arms over his chest, puzzled.

"I see you got my letter."

"I'm here, aren't I?"

Draco half-smiled, almost smirking. He crossed the room. Draco was standing so close, Hermione could smell his cologne.

"Why… why _am_ I here?" she stuttered, fixing her eyes on the buttons of his shirt. As if instinctive, she reached out, pulling at them. He didn't stop her.

"I've noticed something." Draco moved closer than before and she gasped slightly, swallowing fear.

"Wh-what?" her voice was hoarse as she thought of Ron, hesitating.

"_You._" Her breath caught in her throat and she pulled her hands away completely. He glanced down. The two middle buttons of his shirt had been undone.

"Sorry," Hermione stumbled over her words, avoiding his eyes.

"I didn't even notice," he whispered into her hair. Her breathing was labored, she was nervous and calm at the same time. She closed her eyes, a solitary, fearful tear escaping down her cheek. Before she could brush it away, his lips were on hers. She fought against him for a second, but only a second. After that, she succumbed to his kiss. In her dream the previous night, she imagined it rough and cold, like his exterior, but, upon actually experiencing it, it wasn't either. In fact it was warm and meaningful, rather like his interior. She was horrified, waiting for the door to slam open and Harry and Ron come through it like they did before. _Ron._ A pang shot through her. Her mind argued with her heart, ordering her fingers to go for Draco's shirt again. One button, two, three. She's undone his entire shirt. It doesn't take him half a second to throw it behind them. Finally, he pulls away. She admires his body in the light of the midmorning. Harry and Ron are probably throwing around a quaffle, and here she is, _allowing herself_ to be kissed by Draco Malfoy. And, worse, _allowing herself to kiss back._


	5. Reality

Her mind traveled, whizzing through a montage clearly made by nobody but herself. Harry, Ron, and herself. Little stored memories. She reminded herself of the day she met Ron Weasley, the small ginger-haired boy on the train. He was hopelessly attempting a nonexistent form of magic, turning his rat, Scabbers, yellow. She alerted him of dirt on the side of his nose. While he cleaned it with a blush of his cheeks, she sauntered off, a glint in her eye and smug smile on her face. Though she felt superior to the boy who was undoubtedly in her year, from somewhere deep in her, be it her head or her heart, there came a nagging. Something, somewhere, told her to go back to where she'd just been. In the cab with the boys. She ignored it and kept moving, on her hunt for Neville Longbottom's toad, Trevor.

The scene dissolved, and a new one unfolded before her. A sense of reality came over her just before, and she could still feel her embrace with Draco. He was whispering something to her, but she didn't care to hear.

_"It's no wonder no one can stand her, she's a nightmare, honestly!"_ Ron's younger voice echoed in her head. She'd spent the rest of the day crying in this exact bathroom after that remark. The strangest part was she didn't know why. She'd thought they were friends, all three of them. She was so angry at Ron then. She'd convinced herself she wanted nothing to do with him. She never wanted to see him again. Until he stumbled back in, just hours later, to save her from a mountain troll that had been let in.

"It's tonight, Hermione. It's tonight." His voice broke her thoughts.

"Oh- Oh." She wagged her head; tears were not an option, not now. Draco grabbed her shoulders forcefully and shook her.

"Don't you understand? _It's tonight._" His voice was quiet and pleading. She released him from her arms by embracing him again. This time, she swayed slightly, dancing with him for just a moment. She felt him inhale deeply, what appeared to be an act of relaxation.

"I'm sorry, Draco." She slid her hands down his arms. He searched her face, hoping to find something.

"Help me." He whimpered, shaking his head ever-so-slightly.

"I- I don't know that I can," A tear escaped down her cheek, running from its barricades. She dropped her gaze, though she could feel his dark, scared eyes still on her.

"Of course you can't," he spat, "it has to be me. _It has to be me._" Almost as if it came over him just then, he staggered backward, repeating himself again and again. Hermione reached for him: his hand, his fingers, anything she could get a hold onto. She managed to wrap her fingers around his, only to have him tear them from her grasp. Her brown eyes grew wide with confusion and determination. She lunged forward quickly, grabbing his face in her hands. She pressed his mouth to hers again, and there was no mistaking the intent. She _wanted_ to kiss him. He didn't flinch for a second, stunned. After a few seconds that seemed an eternity, he slipped his hands into her hair. She pulled her legs around his bare waist with an overwhelming fire. She kissed him harder, as he helped her out of her sweater. They stopped only to breathe, and even that was rapid. Certainly the hour would end soon, and she'd be forced to ace Ron and her guilt. But there was no mistaking the comfort that came in Draco's arms. Of course, it was in no comparison to the feeling that came with Ron's warm embrace, but it was something. A moan escaped his lips and she feared she was hurting him. In a moment of realization, she separated herself from him, breathing heavily and staring down at him. His eyes were on her face, a few inches above his own. Her head swam almost unbearably. It wasn't Draco she was hurting. It was herself. She was burning the bridge she'd just started building to Ron. She knew she loved him, she'd known that for years. He loved her, too. She was sure of that. Both were too scared of the other, of themselves, to advance forward. That would change, she hoped.

"Hermione?" Draco's voice brought her to reality again. But, what kind of reality was this? This wasn't the reality she wanted. No, she'd never wanted this. Here she was, in a bathroom, sneaking around, half of her shirt unbuttoned, with Draco Malfoy. Death Eater, Draco Malfoy. The Dark Lord's servant, Draco Malfoy. Ferret git, Draco Malfoy. Son of murderers, Draco Malfoy. Arch rival of her best friend Draco Malfoy. Mysterious, misunderstood Draco Malfoy. Just a boy Draco Malfoy. Half- nude Draco Malfoy. Certainly attractive Draco Malfoy. She wriggled from his arms, returning to the floor. She pulled her sweater back on wordlessly. He stared after her longingly.

"Wait," he called. She turned on her heel and kissed his forehead.

"I said I couldn't help you, Draco. I'm so sorry." She moved her lips to his mouth for a brief second, long enough for his to react, to move forward, a hopeless attempt to keep her there, with him, forever. Sighing, she slipped through the door, hair bushy from Draco's fingers. Barely audible, she heard the small voice, begging,

"_Please." _

But she was gone.


	6. Memories

Hermione wasted no time fleeing as far from the bathroom as possible. Not that she knew where she was going. Before she could decide on a destination, she found herself lost. Merely moments left in her free period, she panicked. She drew wand to summon the map that would certainly guide her to her next class. A loud rumble interrupted her incantation and she whirled around. A small, wooden door had formed into the plain wall. Sighing, she pushed it open. To her surprise, the room was desolate. Usually, this particular confinement was bustling with activity and teeming with objects. Today, the room was empty. Her breathing leveled. She needed a place to think: here it was. She'd reasoned with herself to find somewhere quiet. This was better. The room was mercilessly silent, though everything around her screamed. Distantly, she thought she actually heard a humming. She started toward the noise. Every time she reached the seeming end of the room, it extended. What kind of a sick joke was this? She was running her fingers along the wall now, her feet moving swiftly. The humming increased in volume until it was nearly deafening her. She pressed her hands to her ears and shrieked loudly, unsure of where to go. Collapsing slowly to the floor, she sobbed. Head cradled between her knees, she begged for anyone to come and help her. She was drowning in her own misfortune, deafened by her own guilt, and blinded by her own twisted affairs.

Hermione's brown eyes, smothered by the puffy, red skin around them, opened again, searching the room. Her ragged breath caught in her throat, choking her. Gasping, she stood, using the wall tapestries for support. Unbeknownst to her, the room had changed again. Now, instead of being completely empty, the room was filled with photos. Both muggle-esque stills and the moving ones she was so accustomed to. There were so many photos, she was certain Colin Creevey, an annoying but tolerable boy, who always carried a camera, had been following her. The room was decorated now with lions and brilliant red and gold banners. She reached out to run her fingers along the decorations. The fabric was silken, something beautiful and undoubtedly foreign. The photos caught her attention most, though. The room was saturated with them. Plastered on every square centimeter of wall space, was a photograph of Ron, Harry and she. Her fingers touched the frames gently, reliving the memories they encased. Her first charms class with Ron. Defeating the mountain troll. Their first train ride. Talking to Harry about the second task in the Triwizard tournament their fourth year. Offering herself in place of Harry to Sirius in their third year. Hogsmeade with Ron. One she'd never seen before of Ron gripping her hand when she'd been petrified in their second year. Laughing about Harry's kiss with Cho Chang just before last year's holiday. The newest, one from just a day ago: walking down the corridors with Ron after Ancient Runes. She wondered what time it was now. She'd easily spent almost an hour being nostalgic. It was unlike Hermione to miss class, let alone skip it totally. She started for the door at a run, hoping to blame her absence on getting caught up in a book. As before, she appeared to be running in endless circles. The corridor never ended.

She threw herself into the wall, hoping it would fold into a door and release her. She screamed again, a plea. She prayed someone would hear her. After a lapse of silence, she heard a faint click, and far-off whispers.

"Help!" she cried, desperation dripping from her shaky voice.

"Hermione?" her rescuer called.

"Here! Help!" She shrieked again.

"Hermione!" panic was rising in her pursuer's voice. She heard one voice, but two sets of footsteps.

"Ron! Harry!" she cried, running full force toward the voices.

"We have to find her!" the voice belonging to the other pair of hurried footsteps spoke now.

"Ron! Ron, I'm here! Ron!" How weren't they hearing her! She rubbed her face in horror.

"_Homenum Revelio!" _Harry's voice filled the room. Something of a curtain fell before her. They were standing not twenty feet in front of her. She tripped over her feet in sprinting to them. She collapsed into Harry's arms.

"Where've you been?" his worried tone relaxed and he gratefully accepted her embrace. She shook her head, unable to respond. He broke away, leaving her standing between himself and Ron.

"Don't ever do that again," Ron warned. She took the distance between them in her stride and he grabbed her. She hugged him tightly, burying her face in his robes.

"Where's your sweater?" said Ron, rubbing her back and eyeing her getup.

"Er, long story," she muttered, taking him in her arms again. He laughed.

"I suppose we'll have time tonight."

Tonight? _It was tonight._


End file.
